


Out of My Hands

by palominopup



Series: Wing and a Prayer [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-17
Updated: 2018-05-17
Packaged: 2019-05-08 01:11:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,032
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14683353
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/palominopup/pseuds/palominopup
Summary: The second part of the Wings and a Prayer Series, Dean's POV





	Out of My Hands

**Author's Note:**

> My FB readers helped me with the title of the first part of this series and I looked up A Wing and a Prayer to see where it came from. It was from a movie with John Wayne called The Flying Tigers. I pulled the title from this one from another quote from that movie.

 

Heading north toward Oromo, Dean pounded his palms on the steering wheel of his truck, as Led Zeppelin belted out _Whole Lotta Love_. The call from dispatch informed him of a moose that had been hit by a semi. The highway patrol was already on the scene, but a game warden had to be there to file a report anytime one of the big animals was killed.

He passed the entrance to the University of Maine and grinned. Cas would be back to work there on Monday. Adorable nerd that he was, Cas was in demand as a lecturer all over the country. He was flying home from Vancouver today.

Dean glanced down at the truck’s radio display. It was barely after eight. Cas’ flight wouldn’t take off for another hour. He picked up his phone, but thought better of it. Cas was a grumpy son of a bitch in the mornings. He’d be seeing him at the airport this afternoon, so no need to call.

Ahead, he saw the state trooper’s flashing lights and slowed down. Moose were a nuisance sometimes when they wandered onto the roadways. Thankfully, this time it was a big rig. Passenger cars were the worst.

He pulled his dark green GMC Sierra to the side of the road and turned on his emergency flashers. He got out and put on his cap against the glare of the morning sun. “Anyone hurt?” He asked, walking up to the severely dented rig. The moose, a cow, was lying in the road, obviously dead.

“Just her,” Trooper Lafitte said, pointing to the animal. Dean frowned and stepped closer to the cow’s body. He loved the damn beasts. Maybe because of his brother’s nickname or maybe because they were just majestic creatures. Either way, he hated seeing one’s life ended like this.

He took pictures and wrote up his report, then called the county to come remove the thousand pound animal from the roadway. Lafitte had set out reflective markers to warn traffic and had dealt with the truck driver. Accidents happened. Dean hoped the dude had good insurance.

Finished at the scene, Dean got into his truck and headed north again. He wanted to check on the baby skunks he’d taken to the wildlife rehabilitation center yesterday. The mom had been killed by a family’s dog and the litter were orphans.

Lisa, the woman who ran the place, came out to greet him. She took him inside to view the tiny black and white babies. They were being milk fed until they were weaned and within six months, they’d be released back into the wild. He stayed for a time, flirting with Lisa. She was pretty and really cool, but she knew he wasn’t serious. She’d asked him out a couple years back, but he’d said no. Mixing business and pleasure was always a mistake.

Dean didn’t date much. Most of his down time was spent with Cas, his best friend. Next to Sam, he was the most important person in Dean’s life. The two of them spent just about every weekend doing stuff unless Dean had to work. They’d gone on countless camping and kayaking trips. Sometimes, Sam would join them when he could get away from his law practice in Bangor.

“Speak of the devil,” he said when his phone rang and Cas’ name appeared on the screen. He’d get a kick out of the baby skunks. “Heya, Cas, you’re not going to believe…”

“Dean… Please shut up and listen. The plane… we’re going down… I needed to tell you…” Dean’s heart seemed to stop. The plane was going down. No, that only happened in stupid Hollywood movies. “I love you. You are the only one I’ve ever loved. I’m…” Dean couldn’t move. He couldn’t breathe. He turned the wheel sharply to the right and pulled off the road. He inhaled and choked on his own spit.

“No…no…no…” His hands began to shake and then he was panting, unable to get enough air into his lungs. He dialed Cas’ phone.

“This is my voicemail. Make your voice… a mail,” Cas’ deep voice said. Dean hung his head. Any other time, Cas’ message made him laugh. He remembered the day he’d helped Cas with his new phone. He was the smartest guy in the world, but technology confounded him. Dean called his number again.

“This is my voicemail.” Dean pressed the end icon before Cas could go on. He couldn’t lose Cas. Not now. They had so much more to see and do together.

“Think, Winchester,” Dean shouted. He needed to find out what was going on. He floored it and the truck’s tires spun before finding traction on the asphalt. A horn blared behind him and he heard the squeal of someone’s brakes. Oromo was coming up fast and he skidded into the gravel parking lot of a crowded diner.

He burst through the doorway and wild eyes took in the place. People stopped talking and turned to stare. He spotted the television mounted over the cash register. It was on some morning game show. “Turn it to the news,” Dean shouted, striding across the restaurant. Chairs scraped the floor as the diners tried to move out of his way.

The young woman at the register took in his uniform and crazed expression had her picking up the remote quickly. She flipped the channels until she located a local channel. They were talking about the weather. “No, CNN,” he snarled. She did as she was told.

_“… an emergency landing. This is a non-stop flight from Vancouver to Bangor, Maine. The pilots and WS Airlines have requested clearance to make an emergency landing at Seattle-Tacoma International Airport.” The reporter was standing in front of a picture of the terminal at Sea-Tac. “Once again, WS Airlines Flight 1241 out of Vancouver has requested an emergency landing. We’ve been told that all incoming flights have been detoured and all outgoing flights will be detained. Back to the studio, Anna.”_

A redhead’s face filled the screen. “ _This is Anna Milton, reporting for CNN. At this time, Flight 1241 has reported one engine has blown and the other is malfunctioning. The pilot radioed in when the first engine’s problems became apparent and requested landing in Spokane. Now, the situation has gotten worse with a possible explosion in the…_ ” The television now showed a chart of a Boeing 737. Dean’s knees were suddenly too weak to hold him upright. He sank onto a stool at the counter.

“Sir. Can I get you anything?” A young server asked. He shook his head, unable to speak. The trucker sitting on the next stool said something to her and a cup of coffee was put in front of him.

“Son, you look like you need something stronger, but coffee is all they can offer. You got someone on that plane?”

Dean blinked at him and then the words poured out of him. “He called from the plane. God damn bastard said he loved me. Me. And then that was it. I tried calling him back, but got his stupid voicemail. What if… what if they don’t make it? He’ll never know…” Dean stopped before he revealed too much.

“He’ll never know you love him too?” The trucker asked, looking at him with pity in his eyes. He didn’t need anyone’s pity.

“No, it’s not like that. He’s my best friend. My fucking best friend.” It was then that Dean became aware of everyone staring at him. Before he could run out, the reporter was back on the screen.

“ _With the runways clear, emergency vehicles are preparing for the landing. The tower has reported they have the plane on their radar and we should be seeing it soon._ ” The camera panned the sky. All Dean saw was blue. Blue like Cas’ eyes. “ _We have a team inside the terminal and they are now reporting the pilot has put down the landing gear._ ” Again the camera pointed to the sky and Dean got his first look at the small dot trailing a black line of smoke. “ _Flight 1241 is in sight._ ”

The man next to Dean stood up and put his hands on Dean’s shoulders, as if offering comfort. Dean blinked back the stupid tears that were threatening to fall. The diner was quiet. Customers, servers, and even the cooks from the back were all standing… watching.

The plane became recognizable. Dean’s hands tightened into fists, his blunt nails biting into his palms. Cas was on that flight. The cameras showed the brightly colored emergency vehicles racing down the tarmac. He couldn’t watch this. He could not watch Cas die. He closed his eyes tight, like he did when he was a kid and thought something bad lived under his bed. The seconds ticked by.

“ _Flight 1241 is on the ground. The pilot and crew have landed safely._ ” Dean opened his eyes and stared up at the screen. Smoke was billowing out of one of the engines, but the plane was intact. A cheer went up in the diner and complete strangers came to him. He was overcome by the hugs and warm smiles. The trucker squeezed his shoulders and sat back down.

When the noise stopped and everyone had moved away, the trucker nudged his elbow. “Seems like you have something mighty important to talk to your friend about.”

“Maybe he didn’t mean it.”

The trucker stared at him for a full minute and then shook his head. “I can’t believe the State of Maine would hire someone that stupid to protect our wildlife.” It took a moment for Dean to catch on to what he was saying and he smiled.

“You really think he loves me?”

“The man thought he was dying and you’re the one person he called. What do you think, Son?”

“Thank you.” Dean stood and tossed a five on the counter. Then he looked around at everyone. “Thank you all.” Well wishes followed him on the door. In a room full of strangers, Dean had allowed himself to believe he could have something with Cas. In his truck, he called Cas again. And again.

With some help from Google, he got in touch with the airline and the automated voice told him to call another number for information on Flight 1241. That number sent him to another menu, and when he finally got to talk to a human, he was told, all passengers were being detained until the airline could make arrangements for them. “Detained, my ass,” Dean muttered.

His fingers touched his screen again and again until he found what he was looking for. “Seattle Police Department, can I help you?”

“My name is Dean Winchester. I’m a game warden in Bangor, Maine. My… my boyfriend is on the flight that made the emergency landing at Sea-Tac. I can't reach him on his phone and am getting the run around from the airline. Can you help me?” It took some persuading, but he was finally patched through to an officer on duty at the terminal.

“This is Officer Fitzgerald, the third, can I help you?”

Dean went into his spiel and the cop kept saying, ‘uh, huh’. He felt like his pleas were falling on deaf ears.

“Look, if you don’t put me through to my fucking boyfriend, I will personally make sure…”

“Whoa, there, cowboy. Settle down now. True love is an amazing thing, ain’t it?” Perplexed, Dean nodded and then realized the cop couldn’t see him.

“Yeah?”

“Now, what is your man’s name?” Dean told him and the dude put him on hold. He waited. And waited. Then his voice came back on the line. “Yes, Sir, Winchester, he’s standing in front of me. All safe and sound.”

“He’s there. Thank God. Please let me talk to him,” Dean would beg if he had too.

“Yes, Sir-ree, hold on.”

“Hello, Dean.” Thankfully, he was sitting down in his truck, or Cas’ voice would have brought him to his knees.

The words spewed forth before he could stop them. “You’re never getting on a Goddamn plane again. You hear me? I’ve got fucking gray hair now. Gray hair, Cas. I’ve never been so fucking scared. You can’t just call me and say ‘ _hey dude, I’m dying and oh, by the way, I fucking love you_ ’.” You’re so fucking stupid, Winchester. You weren’t supposed to say anything about the ‘L’ word yet.

 “I don’t believe I cursed like a sailor when I was watching my life pass before my eyes, Dean.” Dean couldn’t speak. This was his Cas. The socially awkward, dorky, professor that he loved to distraction. His mouth dropped open. He _loved_ Cas. He was head over heels in love with his best friend.

“Cas, don’t…” His voice cracked and he fought to take in a breath. He had to know. “Did you mean it?”

“Dean, I…” Oh, hell, no. Cas wasn’t going to renege on this. You didn’t say _I love you_ to Dean Winchester and then back out of it.

“Answer the fucking question. Do you love me?” For the first time in his adult life, he was afraid. He opened the door to the truck and got out. He stared at the expanse of trees that led down to a small stream… not deep enough to kayak… and why the hell wasn’t Cas answering him?

“Yes.” Dean sank to his knees. All his senses seemed heightened. The sounds of the birds, the loamy smell of the earth, the breeze against his skin.

“Then get your ass home to me. I really need to kiss your stupid face.”

“You aren’t mad?”

Dean wanted to laugh. “Damn right, I’m mad, Cas. I’m pissed that you only told me you loved me when you thought you were going to die. I’m fucking mad that we wasted so much time. I never thought you could…” he paused to catch his breath and said the words he’d thought for years out loud. “…love someone like me.”

“Like you? Dean, you are amazing.” He used the hand he wasn’t using to hold the phone to crawl with. He moved to the trunk of a large pine and turned to sit with his back to it.

“And you’re a freakin’ genius, Cas. You talk about all those professors you work with and shit, you use Latin names for bugs… I figured you’d fall for someone really smart… more your equal.” _Please say it again, Cas. Please say you love me as much as I_ …

“Excuse me. May I have my phone back? I’m on duty…” Dean heard the cop’s voice and bit back a groan. He’d forgotten Officer Fitzgerald… the third. Had the guy been standing there the whole time?

“Dean, you are an intelligent man and I love you… more than life.” _And I love you_. Dean stared up into the branches above him. Why was it so hard to say those words out loud?

“Hurry home, Cas. Please, just hurry home.”

“I will. Goodbye, Dean.”

“Bye, Cas.” Dean refused to hang up until he heard the dead air. He let his head lull back to rest against the bark. His thoughts went from elation to sorrow at the time he’d wasted… they’d wasted. He remembered conversations over beers around a campfire and how he’d told Cas he wouldn’t date a man. “I love dick every once in a while, buddy, but I could never get serious about a dude. Shit, the old man would roll over in his grave. Hell, he’d probably come back to haunt my ass.” Cas had been off the rest of the weekend. Oh, sure, he smiled and laughed at Dean’s lame jokes, but the light was gone from his eyes. He’d told Cas early on in their friendship about John Winchester and how he raised his boys with a firm hand. He remembered the anger in Cas’ eyes. So many memories rushed back to him. The way Cas would stare at him like he hung the fucking moon.

He sighed, stretched out his legs, and called his brother. “Sam, I need to talk to you about something.” First, he filled Sam in on the harrowing morning. Sam listened to Dean without interruption, which was kind of weird. “But the pilot landed the plane, man. Cas is on the ground, safe. I’m going to pick him up at the airport and we’re going to down some beers. Celebrate, you know, celebrate him being alive and all.” He’d left out Cas’ death bed… no, death plane seat… death… shit… he left out Cas’ confession about loving him. That was something private. He grinned. _Fuck_ , an entire diner of people knew Dean was gone on the guy.

“You should tell him, you know,” Sam said so softly that Dean didn’t think he’d heard correctly.

“Tell him what?”

“You love him, dumbass.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he felt ashamed. He was getting a second chance. He would not blow it. “No, you’re right, Sammy. I do love him and he loves me.”

“I figured out that a long time ago, Dean. I’m glad you two finally got your shit together. Had to take a plane falling out of the sky to do it, but I’ll take it as a win.”

His phone pinged softly indicating a text message. He pulled the phone from his ear.

**Text from Cas/3:38 p.m. – I’m booked on Delta Flight 3646. I leave in thirty minutes. We land in Bangor at eight-fourteen. Can we grab a late dinner. Pizza?**

“Sammy, do me a favor and don’t drop by this weekend. Cas and I are going camping.”

“So, that’s what you kids are calling it these days.”

“Shut up.” Dean said his goodbye to his irritating little brother and then got to his feet, dusting off his ass. He supposed he should get back to patrolling his district. He had time to bag a few unlicensed fisherman before it was time to head to the airport. He grinned as he started the truck. Cas was coming home… to him.

 

 

 

 


End file.
